


Broken

by BuckyAndDanno



Category: 9-1-1 (TV), Chicago Med
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, M/M, Post-Grocery Store, Post-lawsuit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyAndDanno/pseuds/BuckyAndDanno
Summary: Evan Buckley is done. He’s done being exhausting. He’s done caring about people more than they care about him. He’s just done. Then he meets Connor Rhodes.Connor Rhodes was looking for a new start and ended up in L.A. but he wasn’t looking for roots, for anything permanent. Then he meets Evan Buckley.Can two broken hearts learn to heal?
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Connor Rhodes
Comments: 21
Kudos: 241





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m still early on with Chicago Med, so I don’t know why Connor leaves, except that he looks really upset in the clip I saw, so this is probs gonna be somewhat AU. I hope you enjoy it though!
> 
> This is dedicated to ‘Earth To Alex’ for giving me the inspiration :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own 9-1-1 or Chicago Med.
> 
> Trigger warnings for PTSD, depression, injury, and general emotional hurt. Please read with care.

He knows the lawsuit was a stupid idea, probably his worst yet (if he’s completely honest) but he hadn’t known what else to do.

Bobby had lied to him; told him that the LAFD was holding him back when it was actually the Captain himself. He was holding Buck back when the younger man was completely ready, for a reason that wasn’t actually an issue according to LAFD regulations.

He was holding Buck back where he’d let others breeze through, and there was nothing fair about it.

So yes, he’d sued the department because what else was he supposed to do? Just lay down and roll over?

He regrets it now, when all is said and done and he’s stood in a damn grocery store looking at cat food because none of his old team will even return his calls, hoping they show up like always.

Of course, he even fails at this because when did anything actually go right in Evan Buckley’s life? And he just ends up standing there, heart fracturing in his chest as Eddie looks at him with nothing less than disdain and anger.

“You’re exhausting!” His former best friend yells, and suddenly any confidence that Buck had that he could apologise and reforge their friendship simply evaporates in a puff of smoke. Suddenly he’s left completely adrift, wondering where he can even go from here.

“Why can’t you see my side of this?” He manages to whisper, voice devoid completely of any power now.

“Because that’s all you see!” Eddie responds, and everything in Buck shatters completely at the same time a crash echoes from outside.

They’re gone in an instant, leaving him alone once more, and all he can hear on repeat, along with the crushing notion that he’s nothing more than a burden to those he loves, is those two words;

_You’re exhausting._

_You’re exhausting._

_You’re exhausting._

They seem to dissect everything he is, peeling away all he’s become, until there’s nothing left but a shell of Evan Buckley.

In that single moment, he vows not to be a burden, to not be cared about, to not be Evan Buckley as he was known.

He vows to be a ghost.

It’s less than 24 hours later when he gets a call from the chief, having dropped the lawsuit, informing him of his immediate reinstatement to Station 118.

He feels like he should be happy, but there’s nothing except for the cold empty vacuum that opened up inside of him in that grocery store. He just feels numb.

So he goes through the motions, thanking the Chief, and then heads out for a run. He doesn’t feel the burn in his muscles, doesn’t know how far he runs or how long for.

There’s nothing but cold and silence where a vibrant young man used to be.

And when he arrives at the 118 a few days later and is met with glares and stares, when those he once loved treat him as a leper and exclude him, he lets it roll off of him; bulletproof.

He simply goes through the motions, takes the chores, takes the disdain, takes it all and then goes home and eats and sleeps, and that’s all there is.

Day after day.

They don’t ask him if he’s okay until day 5, until enough time has passed that it’s clear he’s not playing with them, or trying to make him feel bad. Until it’s clear that the Evan Buckley they got back is not the same one who was crushed under a ladder truck all those months ago.

“Fine, Captain.” He replies, monotone, continuing to scrub the bathroom tiles. When Nash tells him he’s on the truck for the next call, when he bells sound, he simply nods, climbs into the truck, keeps to himself, stays silent.

He can feel their eyes on him.

He can no longer make himself care.

The light of the fire reflects in dull blue eyes as they pull up to the scene. He slips out of the truck, starts extending the hose reel, finds the hydrant, waits to be told to hang back.

He’s mildly surprised when Nash sends him in with Diaz, but he doesn’t react. Simply nods and grabs his breathing apparatus, then heads inside.

There’s one person left, a child, when Nash tells them to pull out, but Buck can see her, a sliver of a face in a closet, and he pushes Diaz away, tells him to get out, leaps through the flames.

He doesn’t feel his jacket catch, doesn’t feel the burn on his skin. He just has the girl clinging tightly to his other side as they leap back through the flames to the window where the ladder is waiting. Passes her to Diaz, pats it out with his thick glove, waits for them to move down, gets out, and heads down.

There’s a moment where Nash considers him, then nods and tells him “Good save.”

Buck feels nothing. He turns, heads back to the truck to pack away his breathing apparatus, and then a hand is turning him back around, Wilson’s wide eyes surveying his arm.

“Buckaroo, what happened?”

It’s a name he hasn’t heard in so long, but where joy may have sprung up before, the well is dry and empty.

He shrugs. “Must’a caught.” He’s fine. He doesn’t need to be a burden on them, on resources.

Unfortunately, Nash overhears, turns back to Buck, fakes some sort of concern and asks why he didn’t say anything.

Again, Buck just shrugs. “’s not bad.” He moves away, shrugs off his turnout jacket, surveys the red blistering skin beneath.

“Like hell it’s not.” Wilson replies, and Nash all but forces him into the truck.

“We’re taking you to Med.”

Buck knows it’s useless to argue, can’t bring himself too, but at the same time he doesn’t want to be a burden, promised he wouldn’t be.

“I can take care of it at home.” He tells them, but they’re no longer listening, and soon enough he’s forced into an ED bay, onto a bed, blue curtain surrounding him.

Nash regards him as they wait for a doctor, as a nurse slips an IV line into his arm, containing meds and fluids. He doesn’t say anything, just watches him like Buck’s a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.

Buck just closes his eyes and lies back.

He can’t take Nash’s eyes on him; can’t take knowing he failed where he was meant to be strong and unseen.

Then the curtain slides back, revealing a dark haired doctor with kind hazel eyes, and the moment Buck opens his eyes and takes the new man in, he feels himself relax just a fraction.

This man, perhaps, won’t judge him.

“I’m Dr Rhodes.” He says with a soft smile, moving over to Buck’s elevated arm. “What do we have here today?”

Buck considers him for a second, then says. “Burnt my arm on the job.”

Rhodes takes in the remnants of his attire, the turnout Nash is still wearing, then nods. “Known a few firefighters in my time. Hazardous job.”

“You should know he’s on blood thinners.” Nash tells him, and Buck can’t help but mutter under his breath.

“Always comes back to that, doesn’t it?”

He doesn’t think Nash heard him, but Rhodes clearly does by the way his gaze focuses on Buck intently before he turns back to Nash and says, “It’s a cauterized wound, Captain. I’m more concerned about tissue damage.”

It’s the politest comeback Buck has ever heard, and in that moment the doctor gains some of his respect. In that moment, he feels the cold ebb away, just a little.

Perhaps Rhodes notices because in the next breath he’s asking Nash to leave, advising that they’ll be running several tests and other things and that Nash doesn’t need to stay; that he’s pretty sure the station could do with him back.

Nash blinks, looks over at Buck and says. “I’d prefer to stay.”

Buck holds his gaze, can’t comprehend the sudden change (is it a change? Or does the Captain not even trust him to sit on a bed and be treated?), and just whispers. “I’m okay.”

It’s seemingly enough for the doctor, who repeats asking the Captain to leave. Reluctantly, Nash complies.

Then they’re alone, and for several long moments Rhodes just works, pouring saline solution on the burn, examining it, checking Buck’s file, and then his gaze is on Buck, almost searing into him with the intensity.

“Are you really okay?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love guys! Hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own 9-1-1 or Chicago Med!
> 
> Trigger warnings for mention of PTSD and depression.

Buck flinches at the intensity of the other man’s gaze; looks away, lets his hands twist in the sheets. “Never better.” He murmurs, even though it’s a complete lie and somehow, the thought of lying to this man twists something in his gut. Maybe it’s the unabashed concern, maybe it’s the fact that he’s not 118, has nothing to do with the place that broke him, but he tries anyway, even when he knows he’s failing.

Rhodes just makes a noncommittal murmer, and focuses back on the wound. The silence stretches again for a long moment, before he speaks, though focused still on his task at hand. “You know, a lot of people misjudge what PTSD is.”

There’s another moment as Buck slowly looks up at him, but Rhodes just continues addressing the wound on his arm. “People see war movies and other media and they think that’s all it is but… it’s like any other mental health illness; it can affect anyone. Trauma affects people in different ways and a lot of the time, emotional trauma is often overlooked.”

Buck blinks. “I…”

Rhodes looks up at him, dark eyes searing. “I don’t need to look at your file to know you’re someone who has been through a lot.”

At this Buck shrinks back, because it is nothing. Nothing that anyone else needs to be worried about. Nothing to concern anyone.

He’s not worth it.

“’s life, right?” He murmurs with a shrug.

Rhodes’ gaze is still searing into him. “Life does deal bad hands.” He nods. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help.”

Buck wants to believe him, but everything he’s been through the past few months has worn him down completely. Letting his gaze fall back to the sheets, fingers playing with a loose thread, he just says, “Can I just go?”

Rhodes seems to sigh, and just slips a card from his pocket onto the edge of the bed by Buck’s hand. “Think about it.”

It’s only after the other man has left and Connor is sat in his office finishing the day’s paperwork, that he wonders why he’d been so invested in getting the man to ask for help.

He’d been set on edge the moment he’d stepped behind the blue curtain and seen his patient; seen the way the younger man sat wary of the older – flinched at his words – and all but resented their presence there. He’d been aware from that moment that something didn’t add up; that this wasn’t a simple on the job injury.

The problem was, he didn’t know the cause.

Was it simply a dislike that ran beyond professional ties, or was it something deeper?

Instantly he’d known that this man needed more help than the simple treatment of his arm, but he obviously wasn’t willing to ask for it.

Professionally, there was little Connor could do. This was a grown man after all, and perfectly capable of making his own decisions. Yet, in the younger man’s soulful blue eyes, Connor had seen traces of himself, years ago.

He’d seen, in part, the man he used to be, and he knew that the only reason he’d gotten to where he was now was because he’d asked for help.

So he’d tried, and the man had all but resisted.

Still, Connor had persisted, even when the man wanted to leave, and had slipped a card for his clinic on the bed, something within him hoping the man took advantage of it.

Now he could only see what happened.

Yet it remained a mystery as to **why** he’d persisted so much?

Yes, he was reminded of himself, but it was something deeper than that which pushed him on. Something buried and locked even to himself. Was it duty? Trying to amend for his own demons? Or something else entirely?

Evan Buckley, it seemed, was a mystery; an incomplete puzzle.

Connor just hoped he’d be able to help put the puzzle back together.

Bobby returns to the station feeling uneasy and completely out of sorts.

“Is he okay?” Hen asks softly, and Bobby nods, doing his best to put her at ease, but he can’t keep the small waver out of his voice; the not quite knowing. “Seemed so.”

She frowns. “You’re back quick.”

“Nothing for me to do, Hen.” He shrugs. “And he didn’t want me to stay.”

“Buck, or the doctor?”

At this he pauses. “Both.”

She raises a brow, and sighs quietly. “I think we messed up Bobby.”

“Me too.” Bobby admits. “But I’m not sure how to make it right.”

Hen, it seems, doesn’t know either, and when Bobby returns home that evening to the arms of his wife, he can’t shake the question from his mind.

He thought he’d made the right decision in keeping Buck back until he was ready, but now he wonders if it was him who wasn’t ready to have Buck back; if it was him who was having trouble separating the job from his personal feelings.

In some ways, Buck was like a son to him, and that was one of the big reasons why Bobby never wanted to see him hurt.

Except, Buck wasn’t his son, and all the younger man had clearly seen by his actions was a Captain who didn’t trust him and, for that, maybe he had been right in his decision to sue.

Maybe Buck had been the more mature of the two of them after all.

It didn’t change the hurt that had been caused by the decision but since Buck had come back to work, he’d been different; quieter, more subdued. At first Bobby and the others had been convinced that he was either giving them space or trying to make them feel bad, but now…

Having seen how uncaring Buck had been about his arm; how sure he’d been that he didn’t need to go to Med; how… un-Buck-like he’d been… that scared Bobby more than anything.

It made him wonder if they’d broken the boy he only wanted to protect.

And now… he didn’t know how to fix it.

The next day marks his day off, and Buck finds himself blinking up at the ceiling of his loft for way too long before he actually slips out of bed and gets dressed.

For the first time since all of this began, he moves with purpose, with intent, and not an hour later finds himself looking at a squat aqua-blue building with white signage that reads _‘LA WELLBEING CLINIC’_.

He wonders for a second why he’s doing this; why he trusts some complete stranger to help everything that feels broken.

Yet he knows, at the same time, that he’s doing the right thing; that he needs help.

He’d thought he was doing the right thing, being a ghost, and yet now Bobby seemed… to care? Or was it another trick, a way to bench him for good? He couldn’t seem to unmuddle his thoughts. Everything just felt like a bag of broken glass; sharp and painful and way beyond repair.

He knows he’s heading down a path of self destruction, and yet he can’t trust anyone he knows because they’ve all been a part of it.

So maybe he does need a stranger.

Maybe he does need someone willing to care.

He drops his gaze from the sign, raises a hand, and pushes the door open.

He steps inside.

A new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap is short and I kind of hate it but… I’ll do better with the next one. Depression is kind of kicking my ass right now :(


End file.
